Cornwall, 1954

"What can I say, love? The second time I was born, I was born bad. Born of blood, rage, and tears, and you know what? I wouldn't be who I am today without you. You made me possible, and I ought to thank you for that."

Cecily Addams, ninety-four years old on her last birthday, didn't say anything. She didn't even moan. Her mouth was brutally gagged with a strip torn from her dress, the wrinkled skin at the edges of her mouth was turning white, but above the gag her eyes were calm.

Spike casually backhanded her. Her cheek turned red and her nose started bleeding.

"Just look at you," Spike said derisively. "Thank you? I'm not going to thank you. You're disgusting. You're practically dead, and I don't mean that as a compliment. You're old."

Cecily sniffed; the blood from her nose gathered along the curve of her upper lip. Then a red drop fell to the concrete floor, barely missing the toe of her sensible shoes.

"When I think of what you used to be- It's amazing I even recognized you. Of course, you did help, running like that..." Spike smirked. "It's almost like old times, isn't it?"

Thick wool socks hid Cecily's ankles, criss-crossed by brittle leather-old harness pieces lashed her to one of the support posts of the abandoned barn.

"No, no, I take it back. In the old days, you didn't know the power you held in your hands."

Her hands were tied at her side with more leather and bulging knots. They were red and chapped and they curved into arthritic claws.

"Now you know, don't you?" Spike brushed her lip with his finger, smearing the blood. Then he leaned in and whispered. "Why aren't you afraid, old woman?"

Cecily didn't say anything. Her lips didn't even twitch around the gag. Blood dripped.

"Oh, right." Spike yanked the gag out. He had to jerk twice, her head bobbing in time. If she hadn't been tied to the post, she'd have been pulled over; she had no resistance.

"Now, tell me," Spike said. When she didn't rush into speech, he said dangerously, "If you don't, you'll wish you had."

Cecily licked her cracked lips. Her voice was breathy with age. "I'm too old for this, William. I'm not going to cry for you. I'm not going to hate. I'm not going to struggle."

"It's Spike. I left William behind a long time ago."

"Poor weak William," Cecily said with a breath of a laugh. "He thought he was good."

"I thought loads of silly things back then," Spike said harshly. "Who'd want to be good, when evil is such fun?"

"I'd-"

Spike grabbed the material on either side of the high collar of her dress and pulled. The buttons parted, exposing her mottled, leathery skin from neck to waist. He put his smooth hand on her shoulder. "Who'd want to grow old, when being young is such fun?" He started to squeeze her collar bone.

Cecily's face twisted. "I'm too old, I'm too old, William. Have mercy."

"Like you had mercy on me?" There was a crack, a breaking bone.

"So earnest..." Cecily breathed. "So cruel..." She gulped.

Spike released her and patted her shoulder. "Now you're afraid," he said.

Cecily closed her eyes, her face drawn with pain. "I'm not going to struggle. I knew you'd kill me since the night you killed my fiance, the night before what was to be my wedding day."

"You remember that?" Spike was pleased. "Good work, wasn't it? You were a ravishing bride. I almost had you then, but you were clever, went to ground. Never thought we'd meet again. Never thought I'd have a chance-"

"You killed my sister's child in Devon," Cecily said sharply. "Three years later."

"What's that?"

"He was found in the woods. I saw him, he was covered in blood. He was bitten all over."

"That wasn't me, love."

"I know it was you. No one laughed when we called you William the Bloody then."

"Sounds like an accident. Wild beast. Wolf, maybe. Do you mind?" There was blood falling across her breasts. He pinned her with a hand on her broken shoulder and licked it up. Cecily couldn't even flinch.

"Always wanted to do that," he said, licking his lips.

But Cecily could still talk. Maybe she had nothing to lose. "You killed the young man from the house at the end of the lane, the one who'd been looking at me. He had fits and then one day he fell down dead."

"Who do you think I am, God? I'm flattered."

"Don't blaspheme, William. You knew he was looking at me. I saw you one night walking with him by the river."

"Wasn't me," Spike said, growing board. He began to pace.

"It was."

"Shut up." Spike looked at her, and then leaned in a forced a kiss against her wrinkled, bloody, unresisting lips. "Always wanted to do that, too," he said. "Wasn't anything like I imagined. Bloody hell, how the time flies."

He shrugged his jacket into position with a cocky flair, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a hefty metal railroad spike. "Now, pay attention, love. Know what this is?"

"I moved to Scotland, but you followed me there too," Cecily said.

"Not interested," Spike said impatiently. He waved the railroad spike to try to regain her attention. "I'm trying to torture you here, woman."

"I was living with a woman, a friend, she said she was a potential slayer and she promised to protect me, but you killed her."

"I don't care." Spike brought the railroad spike up to threaten Cecily's eye. "And neither should you. Unless you want..." He paused, then pulled the spike back, his lips curving into a delighted smile. "No, no, I take that back. Scotland, potential slayer. Now that was me, and a neat little bit of work it was too, if I do say so myself. And I do. Never knew you were around. Should have come out and introduced yourself. We'd have had such times."

"You weren't trying to kill me? I ran..."

Spike laughed. "Angelus would love this," he said. He flipped the spike up into the air. It whirled high, rotating end over end. Cecily's eyes moved up and down, watching the arc. "Me, I'm getting bored with the life history, love. We can catch up later, meaning never. Right now, I've got a reputation to keep up-" He grabbed the spike out of the air and paused for half a second to shift it to an overhanded grip.

In that half second, Cecily let her head drop forward, the only motion available to her. Her shoulders shook with sobs.

Spike hesitated. One second, two. Three. Four. Then dropped the spike and his face turned bumpy. "Blood and tears," he said, moving in. He bit down fiercely. Cecily screamed.

A few long seconds later, he pulled back. "Sweeter than I expected," he said. Almost tenderly, he brushed a lock of gray hair back from Cecily's brow.

Cecily laughed. "I was afraid for so long I wore out fear. Is that it? Is that why I was afraid? You're not evil, you're just-"

"Do you want a monster?" Spike shouted, his face contorting into vamp face instantly. "Do you want the devil to come out to play?"

Cecily's eyes widened in the instant before Spike's fist connected with her face. Her head rocked back and hit the post with a loud thunk.

"Who's beneath who now?" Spike shouted.

Cecily's head fell forward at an unnatural angle.

Spike stopped, frozen like it was he who'd been felled by a blow to the head. Then he whirled, hearing a noise behind him.

"Poor little sparrow, she'll never sing again," Drusilla said in a singsong, entering. "You have to take care of your toys or they'll leave you."

"Dru," Spike said, not exactly welcoming. His hands were clenched into fists; with effort, he loosened them. "What are you doing here, love?"

Drusilla crossed the room at a quick glide and bent to grasp Spike's fingers, where Cecily's blood was drying. She pulled his hands to her nose. "You smell like strawberries, Spike," she said suspiciously. "Strawberries and stars, something ancient and something new. Are you hungry enough to eat the stars?"

"Only if I can share them with you, my sweet," Spike said, grasping her hands and trying to pull her close, but Dru slipped away, to hide behind the post with the dead body hanging from it.

"Haven't I been good to you, Spike? Haven't I taken care of you, and taught you how to play?"

"Of course you have, pet," Spike said, following after her with a smug anticipatory smile on his face. "And I've-"

Quick as a snake, Dru picked up the railroad spike from the floor and used it to rip through the tattered leather holding Cecily up. Spike immediately lunged, away from Dru. He caught Cecily's body before it hit the ground, his arms wrapping around her torso like they were dancing.

"See, you've left me for a corpse," Dru said. "I can smell her in you. You drank her blood without me, Spike."

"She's dead, Dru," Spike said. He couldn't keep the disgruntlement from his voice. "She was just an old woman. She didn't even taste good." He dropped the body on the ground and held out his hand to Dru. "Not worth the time it took to kill her. I like my corpses young and beautiful."

"She was someone to you," Dru said, backing away. "You touched her and you thought of sunlight."

"Did not!" Sunlight? Sunlight and the sizzle of burning flesh...

Drusilla smiled at Spike. "Oh, but you did. You wanted to be her knight in armor, but I stole you away and now you're mine."

"Close enough," Spike said. "I wanted to kill her, and I did."

"Give her to me, Spike," Drusilla said. "I'm the princess, I want the prize."

Spike hesitated, but only for a second. "She's yours, baby," he said with an expansive gesture. "Not that I have the slightest idea what you'll do with her," he muttered. "Toys..."

Drusilla arranged the body like a little girl playing with a doll, straightening the limbs and the skirt and ripping the blouse more artfully. She patted the hair into shape and folded the hands and finally, she leaned down and kissed the corpse on the mouth, where the blood was still wet.

"She tastes like ashes."

Spike took Dru's hand and pulled her up, then kicked the body. "That's why we don't eat old women. Or corpses. Come on, the night is young. You and I, we need to keep in shape. Let's find someone who can run and chase them through the night. First one to make their heart explode from sheer terror wins. What do you say, baby?"

"I'm younger than the night," Drusilla said. "I can run forever, once I get started." She stepped over the body like she was dancing a solemn dance. She took Spike's hand and drew him into the dance, pulling him away, toward the exit, where the night called with crickets and frogs.

"Spike," she said seriously.

"Yes, love?"

"Will you still love me when I'm old and grey?"

"You'll never be grey," Spike said. "Hell, you'll never be old."

"I will. As old as the stars. As old as the smell of summer and the sound of sunlight in the grass."

"I'll love you forever," Spike said. "Let's get out of here. That old woman left a bad taste in my mouth."

As they passed through the door, Dru bent and picked a flower from the bush just outside. "Don't you want to give her a flower for remembrance?"

Spike turned and looked at Dru. "She's nothing." He put the flower in Drusilla's hair.